


love, alphabetically

by ofstarsserene



Category: Miss Scarlet and the Duke (TV 2020)
Genre: Alphabet Challenge, F/M, chapters will jump back and forth between different stages of their relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofstarsserene/pseuds/ofstarsserene
Summary: a series of short ficlets where each prompt starts with a different letter of the alphabet (because Eliza and William deserve their own alphabet, come on)
Relationships: Eliza Scarlet/William "Duke" Wellington
Comments: 57
Kudos: 168





	1. A for Absence

It turns out that London is surprisingly quiet at two in the morning. Eliza has never noticed this before. Of course, she’s never had that much trouble sleeping before either. Yet tonight she is tossing and turning in her bed, her head full of annoying ideas and pointless fears. Eliza misses familiar noise of daytime London, for in the absolute stillness of the night she cannot silence her restless brain, which decided to keep her awake with thoughts of one particularly insufferable Scotland Yard detective inspector.

Oh yes, she blames William for this, wholeheartedly. It might not have been his fault that he had to leave the city (after all, he was only following orders), but surely it was in his power to write to her. Not even a word on how his investigation is going. Not even a tiny scrap of paper explaining why he still hasn’t returned, even though he explicitly told her he would be gone for ten days, and it’s already been almost three weeks.

Of course, it’s not like William owes her any specific explanation… And PC Honeychurch did tell her that everything was going smoothly and that it was simply a necessary delay. Yet, there is a part of Eliza that wonders whether William is truly all right and whether this situation troubles him as much as his absence troubles her.

Eliza huffs, and the sound ends up louder than she expected. She might blame William for this as well. She thinks she hates it, how she is so affected, simply because he is not around when she wants him to be. Has she always been this clingy, this dependent on William contradicting her every word? Eliza despises his attitude sometimes, most times, in fact. She should be happy that he is not here to pester her and scold her, as if she is a child in need of discipline. So why is he the reason for her restlessness when the whole of London is peacefully and blissfully asleep?

If he did write her a letter, what would he even say to her? Would he ask for her help with the investigation? No, he is too proud for that… Would he at least accept her help if she made an offer herself?

Well, there is certainly a way to find out.

Eliza finds an old candle in one of her drawers, and it gives just enough light for her to make out what she is writing.

_Dear William,_

_Your constables were extremely kind to inform me that your investigation is taking longer than expected, hence you failed to return as promised. I have no doubt you are managing perfectly well, however I find it necessary to remind you that, if you wish, I am ready to provide my own skills as a private investigator. Do not hesitate to contact me if the need arises._

_Yours,_  
_Eliza_

There. Seems professional enough. Not too long (she doesn’t miss him _that_ much), not too short (she thinks she explains her point rather well).

Eliza hops back into bed, a new cozy feeling forming in her chest. Her last thought before she succumbs to sleep is how she’s going to bribe Honeychurch to send this letter for her.

***

London is quiet two nights in a row – and Eliza’s head is certainly not.

_Why did she have to write “yours” at the end of that silly letter?_

Eliza groans to herself. William is going to tease her about this for weeks to come… Maybe even for months. Oh well. Nothing she can do about it now.


	2. B for Blessing

_Deep breaths, William. You can do this._

He has been fidgeting with a tiny box in his pocket for half an hour already. William hopes she’ll like the ring. Hell, he hopes Eliza likes _him_ enough to even consider tying herself down to him, a policeman who still hasn’t managed to get a promotion in all these years.

He loves her. God, how much he loves her. William knows Eliza deserves to be properly courted, and he hopes he’s done a decent job of it. He remembers how fond he was of his mother’s stories, where brave knights vowed to be worthy of their fair maidens and proved their intentions not only with words, but with actions.

His mother would’ve loved Eliza, William is sure of it. His father, too. As for Eliza’s father… William closes his eyes, the thought of Henry bringing back so many memories. If only he could ask him for Eliza’s hand in marriage.

“I wish I could ask you, Henry,” William sighs, reminded of how much he misses his mentor. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind, my boy.”

A familiar voice brings a smile to William’s face. He opens his eyes, and there he is, Henry Scarlet, comfortably occupying an old leather chair (which might be the only decent chair in William’s office) and smiling back at him.

“I’ve loved you like my own son, William. In fact, this is the outcome I most desired.”

“You did?”

“You are the only one who can match Eliza’s wit. And the one who can love her the way she deserves to be loved.”

William hopes Henry is right.

“I hope I am worthy of her, Henry,” William is not sure if he’ll ever stop worrying about that. “If Eliza says ‘no’…”

“Oh, my darling boy,” Henry shakes his head at him, and William’s fears seem to dissipate a little. “You two truly act like an old-married couple sometimes. Do not doubt what is bound to happen.”

William chuckles to himself.

“You know, Eliza mentioned something about an old-married couple. Seems so long ago now.”

“Well, she is her father’s daughter.”

That part is definitely true.

“I am proud of her,” for a moment Henry looks away, lost in some kind of a distant memory. “And of you, William. You’ve come so far. I don’t think I ever told you how happy your accomplishments made me,” Henry smiles at him even brighter than before. “And I couldn’t be happier to have you as my son-in-law.”

Hearing this makes something warm bloom in William’s chest. He wishes he could give Henry a hug, but for now the only thing he can do is try not to lose composure.

“Go, my boy. You have my blessing.”

It feels as if a huge weight just lifted off William’s chest.

“Thank you, Henry.”

William takes one more deep breath, checks the box in his pocket (still there, waiting to be delivered to its rightful owner), and by the time William glances back at the chair opposite him, Henry is gone.

No time to waste then. Eliza _Scarlet_ is her father’s daughter… and Eliza _Wellington_ has a nice ring to it too.


	3. C for Client

His name is Alexander Carlisle, and William thinks he looks a little bit like a scoundrel. The man claims to own a gentleman’s club, but looks more like someone who presides over a house of ill repute. A sleazy character, most likely. Didn’t William ask Honeychurch to check Mr. Carlisle’s records? If not, then he better hurry. Who knows what dark secrets can be found in there.

…But then again, Eliza seems to like him. She obviously prefers his company to William’s these days, and William cannot help but question the propriety of meeting one’s client outside of workplace so often. Not that he doubts Eliza’s integrity and work ethic, but the man did give her flowers (twice!) and gifted her a precious antique vase (who even collects vases anymore?). It’s not even a pretty vase. The more William looks at it, standing on Eliza’s fireplace, the more he dislikes pottery in general. Look what this vase is doing to him.

“Something on your mind?”

Eliza’s question distracts William from staring at the distasteful object. Ah, yes. He finally has Eliza to himself. The talk that he wants to have with her is long overdue.

“Nothing worth noting,” he mumbles, as Eliza puts the tea tray down and sits on the couch next to him. “So, I heard you made progress on the Carlisle case. Any promising leads? Was the victim really his sister?”

It is a perfectly innocent question, and Eliza doesn’t have to glare at him so, but of course she does.

“William, I am in no habit of doubting my client’s words if there are no inconsistencies in their story. Why do you ask? Did _you_ find something?”

“Well, not yet, but –”

“Not yet? William, this is my case! You never fail to remind me how _I_ am impeding _your_ investigations with my advice, so please, do not be a hypocrite. I don’t want you to interfere.”

“I was simply worried about you, that’s all”

He sips his tea, prepared to parry whatever remark Eliza will throw at him next, when there is a knock on Eliza’s front door. Eliza is up immediately, and William detects her slightly nervous energy, as they both listen to Ivy greeting whoever it is that decided to visit a young woman’s house way past dinner time.

It's _his_ voice. William is sure of it. If he knew Eliza expected company, he wouldn't have come. But as the voice is coming closer to the room, Eliza flinches, her gaze fixed on the door, and the look on her face is so lost that William can't help thinking he's read the situation completely wrong. He cannot remember if he ever saw her in such a state of panic.

"Eliza?"

She turns to look at him, and William feels a strong instinct to protect her from whatever it is that she is worried about.

"Mr. Carlisle is incredibly persistent," Eliza lets out a quick breath, nervously fidgeting with her necklace. "He is a client, I can't even send him away."

Oh... _Oh._ So, this is how it is.

"Do you trust me, Eliza?"

Eliza stops fidgeting and stares at him, half surprised, half hopeful. "Of course I do."

"Good," He moves closer to her and puts a hand on her back, hoping she doesn't find it to be untoward. "Because I really need you to trust me right now."

It's time to put on a show.


	4. D for Déjà vu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Hello. So – it’s been a while. 2020 was… a journey, to say the least. Mental health plummeting, physical health following… yeah, not the greatest of my moments, but I’m better now. New year, new me, right? I’m back. Not sure how often I will update, but I will finish this fic in 2021, because I miss these two idiots in love, and I need my serotonin, so – here we go!
> 
> Thank you, guys, for still being interested in this fic! Hope you enjoy my very rusty writing <3

“William, I cannot possibly stay at your place. My reputation –”

“This time it’s non-negotiable, Eliza! There’s been an explosion right next to your house, and there’s no way I let you go back home when it was clearly an attempt on your life.”

“But –”

“No, you are under official police protection. I will not let you out of my sight until we catch this lunatic.”

…and this is how she ends up at William’s doorstep in the middle of the night. Eliza wonders if she had to stand her ground. It’s not like William’s never locked her up in the cell before, and, as uncomfortable as it might have been, she could’ve stayed at the station, with constables keeping watch. Yet William was adamant, and looking at his face now, severe and determined, Eliza thinks it’s not the time for arguing. She is used to William being displeased with her, but this time it’s not mere irritation on his part. In his eyes she notices agitation and even fear. She cannot remember the last time she saw William so on edge, and if staying by his side puts him at ease, Eliza will do it, for William’s sake.  
He fumbles with the keys, curses under his breath, and Eliza cannot help noticing how tired he looks. She wonders when the last time he properly slept was, but before she has the chance to ask, the stubborn front door is defeated, and William shows Eliza in, his eyes scanning the dimly lit street behind her for any signs of them being followed. He is visibly tense, and Eliza decides to drop her worried scolding for the time being. The last thing William needs now is her nagging him about something (even if this particular “something” is his well-being).

Only when Eliza is sitting on a sofa next to the fireplace does William relax, dropping into a chair next to her.

The clock strikes one, and the silence that follows is heavy and slightly unnatural in comparison to their usual bickering – but Eliza feels like she doesn’t exactly know what to do. Alone with an unmarried man. At night. In his house. Where he lives by himself. Surely, it’s only William, but the way her face feels more flushed with every second is contradicting her futile attempts to stay calm and collected.

Lucky for her, William clears his throat and finally says something. 

“Are you hungry?”

The question is so trivial and simple that any nervousness that Eliza is feeling is gone. 

“Maybe a little. You?”

William nods at her. “I’ll make us something to eat. You, umm…” The great detective clearly doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and Eliza smiles, finding it endearing. “You can wait in the drawing room, if you want.”

“And miss the chance to see famous chef Wellington in action?” Eliza springs from the sofa and heads to the door, turning back just for a moment to throw William a mischievous glance. “I am afraid you are stuck with me for now.”

William chuckles and follows her to the kitchen. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

(The words are out before he can properly register the implications, and he really hopes Eliza didn’t hear his tired mumbling…)

***

Sharing living space with Eliza is surprisingly much easier than William could have imagined. They are dining impossibly late (if you can call eating scrambled eggs at half past one in the morning “dining”), and they are both very tired, but their conversation flows naturally, any awkwardness disappearing after he witnesses her loudly snorting at one of his silly jokes. William expects Eliza to be embarrassed – but she breaks into laughter, pointing out how unladylike it was of her, and William can’t help to smile back at her.

She helps him tidy up the kitchen, not listening to any of his protests (“Don’t you dare say that I will surely break something, or I will be very cross with you!”). She volunteers to put the kettle on, gleaming at him with pride when she actually manages.

Eliza inhabits his space like she belongs here… and William doesn’t know how to deal with this newfound warmth in his chest at the sight of Eliza handling his silverware.

_“If my father could see us now, he might mistake us for an old married couple.”_

It’s a weird feeling of déjà vu that William cannot shake. Eliza’s words are still fresh in his memory, and tonight seems so much like that evening all those months ago. He remembers the glances, and the banter, and the impossible need to take her into his arms and kiss her…

Next to him, Eliza yawns and sneezes almost simultaneously, and William chuckles to himself.

“I think it’s time we went to bed.”

Eliza raises an eyebrow at him, and he mentally smacks himself. _Very smooth, William._

“I mean, _you_ went to… umm… and I’ll take the couch.”

“William!”

“What?”

Eliza huffs and rubs her temples. “When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”

“What does this have to do with it?”

“I just…” Eliza stands up and starts pacing, her small frame filled with tension. “I can’t help feeling like an intruder. Like you keep making small sacrifices because of me, and someday they will take a toll.”

Eliza is averting her gaze, as if feeling guilty, and William sighs. _Exasperating as always_. William catches her hand in his, rubbing small circles into her knuckles to calm her down.

“You are not intruding, Eliza. If anything, you keep me sane by being here. Can you even imagine how I would feel not knowing if you are safe?”

William looks at her and meets her eyes, and the air between them feels electric. He is the one looking away this time, not sure what he will do if Eliza continues staring at him like that.

Her soft lips on his cheek come as a surprise. It’s the lightest of kisses, but it’s the closest Eliza has been to him for a very long time, and William’s heart is certainly no stone, as it starts frantically beating in his chest. _This woman will be the death of him._

“I’ll be taking the bed then. Good night, William.”

She will be the death of him – but, maybe, not tonight.


End file.
